Obsession
by superdupergay
Summary: Varus and Ezreal tried to team up to fight Noxians together but it...really didn't end well. At all. Contains explicit sexual content in the form of rape. Read at own risk.
1. Chapter 1

Contains man x man and also rape. You've been warned.

* * *

Vladimir's left hand supports his right elbow so he can rest his chin upon his right hand. He sits in a plain wooden chair in a plain stone room where a plain light bulb hangs above a plain stone floor. The bulb is bright but its light doesn't quite reach the corners of the chilly room. Still, it can be made out that the small room is empty except for the chair where Vladimir sits, ankles crossed elegantly, and a huddled mass against the wall in front of him.

Vladimir's lips curl into a smile when he senses the change in blood flow indicating that the mass has awoken. It doesn't move - probably pretending to be asleep. Must be scared to death, thinks Vladimir. Poor thing. His smile grows wider.

"Do you know why you're here?" Vladimir asks loudly, slowly, clearly, so that the groggy person may pick up every word. There is no sound in response. "Oh, that's right, you can't speak, can you?" says Vladimir with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you do know, but allow me to explain anyway," Vladimir continues. He uncrosses and recrosses his ankles, then adjusts himself until his fingers are laced together in his lap and he is sitting up straight. "I'm sure you recall our . . . most recent meeting, don't you?"

Silence.

"You know, when your Ionian friend - Varus, is it? - attempted to restrain me so that the two of you could kill me." He sounds amused, as though the very idea of him being mortal is the funniest joke he has ever heard. "Is that correct?"

More silence. The pulse has grown slightly faster.

Vladimir's smile widens.

"So you do remember. Then you must surely also remember how I overpowered him and managed to escape, leaving both of you unsatisfied and very embarrassed."

The pulse quickens further.

"So then, that means you know why you are here, right?" Vladimir leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he examines his captive. "I have to punish you for your foolishness."

The pulse remains steady.

"You may be wondering, 'Why me? Why not Varus? It was all Varus's idea, after all.' And you aren't wrong, you know," Vladimir adds, nodding thoughtfully though he knows his guest can't see him. "It's a valid question. Why you?"

The grin creeps back onto Vladimir's face.

"You're so recklessly foolish," he begins, leaning back against the chair and uncrossing his legs. He folds his arms across his chest as he continues, still staring at the mass on the floor. "He lost everything he held dear to Noxians. I had no part in killing his family, unfortunately, but I suppose I'm close enough that destroying me would give him some sense of satisfaction. But you?"

Vladimir crosses his ankles again and tilts his head. "Why did you help him?"

The silence is broken by the sound of the person's breath catching. Vladimir's grin widens again.

"Why did you help him?" Vladimir repeats. "What could you possibly have had to gain from killing me, from killing any Noxians? Other than the fact that you seem to have some childish grudge against all 'Noxian scum' or whatever you'd like to call it . . ." his voice trails off. His captive's breathing has grown heavy and his pulse has quickened further.

"Are you scared, Ezreal?" Vladimir asks calmly.

Silence. Of course all Vladimir receives is silence.

"Are you scared I might know why you did it?" Vladimir rises from his chair and takes slow steps toward the dark mass against the wall. Ezreal's breathing seems to stop.

"Or are you just scared of what I'm going to do to you now?"

He stops when he is standing over Ezreal, who is lying on his side on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. Vladimir can sense his pulse racing frantically, can almost taste his panic on the cold air. Vladimir runs his tongue across his lips as he looks down at the marvelous sight before him. Ezreal can't see him, but he heard the hemomancer approaching, and he knows he's there.

Vladimir reaches down and grabs a fistful of thick blond hair. Ezreal's brow furrows above the red satin sash (the same color as the markings under his eyes) acting as a blindfold and he hisses in pain, but gives no other forms of protest as Vladimir drags him up into a sitting position against the wall.

"I'm going to take the tape off," Vladimir says, still holding Ezreal's hair with one hand while the other travels to the edge of the tape. "I don't want to hear a sound out of you - I only need your mouth for one thing."

He receives silence as his reply. Of course he does.

Still, he doesn't trust Ezreal. It is only a small exertion for him to slow Ezreal's blood flow, and the explorer grows heavy until Vladimir's grip as he threatens to collapse. Now that he couldn't speak even if he wanted to, Vladimir rips the tape off the boy's face and crumples it into a ball before tossing it casually over his shoulder. He smiles as he watches Ezreal's pretty lips part to try to take in air, already feeling the oxygen deprivation from his slowed heart rate. Vladimir releases his grip on Ezreal's life essence, and as the boy's chest rises and falls rapidly, Vladimir's free hand drifts toward his pants and exposes his fully hard length to the cold air.

Ezreal's mouth is still open as he tries to replenish his oxygen supply, and so Vladimir finds a perfect opportunity to shove the tip of his cock between those lovely lips. Ezreal realizes what the intrusion is and immediately tries to pull back, to turn his head, to do anything, but Vladimir cups his other hand around the side of Ezreal's jaw and holds him where he is. He watches, delighted, as Ezreal strains his arms uselessly against the bonds, wanting to use his hands to shove Vladimir away but unable to.

All else having failed, Vladimir feels a warning scrape of teeth against the head of his cock. The attempt to drive him off does nothing more than amuse him, and rather than slow Ezreal's pulse down, he decides this time to stop it altogether, to give the boy a taste of stillness, of death, of what might be if he actually decides to bite down. Vladimir would rather not kill a champion of the League, but he knows his powers are formidable, and there is little the Summoners can do to punish him if he decides to end Ezreal's life.

Ezreal seems to know this too, as when his blood flow finally returns to normal, Vladimir no longer feels the boy's teeth. He smirks, satisfied with the newfound obedience, and pushes his hips forward slowly. Ezreal's tongue is like warm velvet on the underside of his cock, and he wants to see how far he can go before - ah, there it is. Ezreal convulses as Vladimir strikes his gag reflex, and he allows the boy to pull his head back slightly to recover. Vladimir sits still for a moment, wondering if Ezreal is really going to make him do all of the work.

"This will be a much more pleasant experience for you if you cooperate," Vladimir says, voice mostly calm but with a slight edge of irritation. For a moment, Vladimir considers removing Ezreal's blindfold, if only for a moment, if only to see the look on his face as he finally decides to actively participate, but the moment is gone when Vladimir feels the boy's tongue swipe sideways across the underside of his cock. He grins.

"Yes, good," he purrs, and Ezreal's nose wrinkles slightly in response. He slowly moves his head forward, sucking experimentally at the tip, much to Vladimir's delight, before pulling off completely. Vladimir hears the click of Ezreal's teeth as he clamps his jaw tightly shut.

A muscle twitches in Vladimir's forehead.

He manages no sound other than a feral growl as he tightens his grin on Ezreal's hair and forcibly tilts his head back with one hand. He shoves the fingers of the other hand between Ezreal's lips, wrenching the boy's jaw open and shoving his cock back inside, all the way in this time, and Ezreal gags loudly as Vladimir enters his throat.

Ezreal's resistance serves only to heighten Vladimir's pleasure as his tongue slides wetly against the base of the hemomancer's cock and his throat tightens around the tip. Vladimir gasps in pleasure, pulls out slightly and then thrusts back in, drawing fresh convulsions from the blond explorer, and he can hear Ezreal's fingernails scraping loudly, desperately against the wall behind him. Vladimir's hand returns to its previous position cupped around the boy's jaw, holding his mouth closed around his cock. The hemomancer hears liquid drip onto the floor and at first thinks it's Ezreal's saliva, but then he looks down and sees that his cheeks are shiny - wet with tears.

Vladimir wonders vaguely if the boy's eyes are merely watering from the exertion, or if the tears are ones of humiliation. Either way, how delightful. His face is flushed even compared to the scarlet cloth over his eyes. Between the sight of Ezreal's struggling and the warm, wet sensation surrounding Vladimir's cock, it doesn't take him long to near climax, and with a final thrust, he shoves himself all the way in. He releases most of his fluids directly into Ezreal's throat but finishes off in the boy's mouth, pulls out and holds his mouth shut.

"Swallow it," he commands, and Ezreal shakes his head, but once he realizes Vladimir isn't going to release him until he does, he gulps audibly, gagging heavily. Vladimir releases the blond and he immediately doubles over and vomits onto the floor in front of him.

Vladimir's lip curls in disgust.

"Your performance was pleasing," he announces, reaching into a pocket in his jacket, "so I'm not going to make you clean that up with your mouth."

Vladimir produces a roll of tape from his pocket and tears off a fresh piece. He lifts up a corner of Ezreal's jacket to dry the boy's mouth so the tape will stick, then slaps the tape on. He draws himself back up to his full height and looks the boy over. His hair is now hopelessly untidy, the visible skin on his face is now significantly redder than before, and his shoulders are rounded.

"But I'm not finished with you yet."

Vladimir wants so badly to turn the boy around and examine his wrists, which surely must be red and possibly blistered from chafing, but he resists the temptation. He can do that later. He heads for the door, turns the handle, and pauses before closing it.

"I'll be back soon with your friend."

Ezreal seems to tense up. Vladimir grins and closes the door, locking it behind him.

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Please review to tell me what you thought of my first fic! Chapter 2 will be around eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

The noxious fumes of his own vomit wafting up from the floor make Ezreal nauseous all over again. He shifts over a bit, taking care not to let his knees touch the puddle even though he can't see it, trying to get away from the horrid smell of his stomach acid mixed with Vladimir's semen. He finally succeeds and is able to rest a few feet away, struggling to adjust so that his legs are stretched in front of him rather than curled beneath him. He winces as the ropes rub against his wrists.

Vladimir has removed Ezreal's gloves, and it has been a very long time since the explorer has used magic without the aid of his amulet. He doesn't even remember how. The amulet's absence also means that he can't be summoned into a match. Ezreal is certainly stuck here until Vladimir decides to let him go. His throat feels like it's been rubbed with sandpaper, his face is beginning to itch as the tears dry, his legs crawl with pins and needles as he regains the feeling in them after sitting on them for so long, and he can feel blisters forming on his wrists. He leans back to rest his head against the cold stone wall.

Vladimir has successfully mistaken Ezreal's anger for fear. He has successfully assumed that the whole thing was Varus's idea. Ezreal can't help but feel a small sense of victory even as his fury bubbles back to the surface. The hemomancer thinks Ezreal is too scared to fight back, when in reality Ezreal is just biding his time, plotting ways to make Vladimir suffer.

Ezreal and Varus had never intended to kill him.

How dare he assume that Ezreal's grudge against Noxians was 'childish.' How dare he not remember the young Piltovian couple that'd been traveling through the forests outside Noxus while their young son stayed at home with his aunt. When they hadn't been heard from in nearly a month, a search party finally went after them and discovered their drained bodies dumped carelessly at the base of a tree. Even as a boy, he understood what had happened, and he urged the Noxian government to find and arrest the hemomancer since he was in their jurisdiction, but they merely laughed at him. It wasn't long afterward that a hemomancer was admitted to the League of Legends as a champion of Noxus.

Ezreal quakes with rage at the memory.

Vladimir has assumed Ezreal is the one assisting Varus, probably because Ezreal doesn't seem like the vengeful type. Ezreal didn't choose to join the League, and even when he did join, the thought of the opportunity he'd been presented didn't even occur to him. Varus must be rubbing off on him. After Vladimir's implication that Varus, at least, was justified in his actions, it seems as if he doesn't feel Varus deserves punishment. Has he changed his mind? Or does he have something else in mind entirely?

_I have to be ready no matter what_, thinks Ezreal. There are many possibilities for what Vladimir could be planning. He doesn't want to think about most of them, but forces himself to turn them over in his mind anyway. Vladimir has proved with his actions thus far that his evil knows no boundaries. Ezreal tries to figure out what Vladimir could be planning to do with Varus, but all of them seem equally likely.

Ezreal shudders. He will simply have to wait in the maddening darkness and silence for Vladimir's return. Having seen what the hemomancer is capable of, he has no doubt that apprehending Varus will be a simple task. Ezreal's mind is clear and his reflexes are sharp. He will allow Vladimir to continue to think he is terrified. He will allow Vladimir to think that the only reason his genitals are still attached to his body is that he has some kind of power over Ezreal. He will allow Vladimir to think he has complete control over the situation, and when his confidence is at an all-time high and his guard at an all-time low, that is when Ezreal will strike.

* * *

It must be several hours later when the door finally creaks open and Vladimir drags Varus inside. Varus's bow has been absorbed into him arm, and his arms are bound tightly behind his back to keep him from drawing it. There is tape over his mouth, but his eyes are free to take in his surroundings as he struggles against Vladimir. Motion from the corner of the room draws Varus's attention, and he sees Ezreal sitting on the floor, head turned toward the noise, suspicious-looking puddle on the floor several feet away. Varus immediately stops struggling.

Vladimir grins. He notices that Ezreal has moved, and the sight delights him, as it means Ezreal isn't broken yet and there is still fun to be had. He drags Varus over to where Ezreal is sitting and pushes him onto the floor, back against the wall, beside the explorer. Vladimir straightens up, takes a step back, and folds his arms across his chest. Varus is glaring up at him and his eyes are full of so much hatred that Vladimir has to hold back a grin.

"You've crossed me," he says slowly, relishing each syllable on his tongue, "both of you. Not that there was ever a chance of us being allies, of course." His eyes flick from Varus to Ezreal and back again. Varus is still glaring, and Ezreal's head is facing forward, eyebrows static above the blindfold, breathing silent, heart rate steady. "But now, rather than being on neutral terms, we are enemies. You may not have known this before now, but I am not an enemy you want to make."

Neither of Vladimir's captives make a sound. Their heart rates are nearly identical. How cute. He sneers, and quickly forces it into a sly grin. He folds his hands behind his back and begins slowly pacing back and forth as he continues. Varus's eyes follow him as he moves.

"Now, I'm willing to forgive your mistake from yesterday," purrs Vladimir. "Isn't that generous of me?"

"However . . ." Vladimir stops pacing and turns to fix his eyes upon Varus once more. "My forgiveness comes at a price."

There is a silence of several moments in which the only sounds are Varus's angry breaths and the infuriatingly synced heartbeats of the two champions before Vladimir.

"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions," he continues, eyes flicking over to Ezreal and then back to Varus. "Answer correctly, and you may not need emergency healing when I release you."

He bends down and rips the tape off Ezreal's mouth, crumpling it into a ball as he speaks. "The first question is for you, Ezreal." Ezreal's face doesn't change, and he remains silent. Vladimir's eyes narrow. "Which of your parents do you think screamed the loudest when I killed them?"

At last, their heart rates fall out of sync as Ezreal's skips a beat and then picks up at nearly double its previous speed.

"W-what?" he replies, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, come off it," says Vladimir, sounding amused once more. "You must have some idea. Was it your mother, the crybaby? Or your father, the coward?"

"Fuck you!" shouts Ezreal, voice cracking as realization hits. He's been playing into Vladimir's hands the entire time. He knew all along that it was Ezreal's idea.

"Ezreal, did you know it only takes 30 pounds of pressure to break a human's knee? I wonder if the same amount is necessary for humans that have been touched by corruption."

Ezreal is silent. He hears a sharp intake of breath from besides him. "What are you doing?" asks the explorer.

"I'm showing you how your actions hurt the ones you love," replies Vladimir, and a sharp sound like a firecracker exploding echoes through the room, nearly drowning out the muffled cry of pain that makes Ezreal's blood go cold.

"Leave him alone!" Ezreal snarls, kicking blindly at the air where Vladimir's leg should be if he has just stepped on Varus's leg. In response, he suddenly feels as exhausted as if he's just finished running all the way from Piltover to the Institute, and knows that Vlad is messing with his blood flow again. He feels himself being lifted off the ground and realized Vladimir has grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Fucking . . . coward," he manages.

Vladimir's laugh sounds miles away. "You're right," he says, and Ezreal feels his heart rate go back to normal. His knees hit the hard floor and his chest is pressed against something not far above it. A stool? A crate? A chair? His head hangs over the other side. He can feel Vladimir's hand between his shoulder blades. "I prefer it when you struggle."

Varus's vision comes back into focus as the pain in his knee fades to a strong ache. He is no stranger to pain, but that only makes it slightly easier to work through, makes it fade marginally more quickly. His eyes, when he can see with them again, fall on Vladimir running one silver-clawed finger down Ezreal's spine. The ever-present voice in the back of Varus's mind whispers that the scene is familiar. Varus squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Were his hands free, he'd be tearing at his hair. _I don't know what you're talking about_, Varus insists, even as the voice reminds him what the Noxians did to his wife, tries to show him but he doesn't want to see. He hasn't been able to look at a woman at all without the voice reminding him. Being with Ezreal had brought such refreshing silence, the possibility of physical closeness without the painful memories.

But now . . .

"The next question is for Varus," says Vladimir, and Varus opens his eyes slowly, grudgingly.

"_Now_ what the fuck are you-" Ezreal starts to question Vladimir but is cut off by the hemomancer tugging at the ropes around his wrists, inviting them to rub against the forming blisters and draw fresh waves of pain, and Ezreal yelps loudly. Vladimir's eyes drift over to Varus, watching, heart pounding, brow furrowed, eyes wide. Vladimir smiles. One hand begins working at Ezreal's many belts.

"Are you getting a sense of . . ." his free hand wraps around Ezreal's neck "deja vu?" Ezreal's hair is long and dark, the chair is a rock, Vladimir is wearing armor - no, Varus shakes his head, Ezreal's hair is blond, and Varus isn't watching a scene from the past played back to him, he's watching a scene from the present happening right now - and this time, he has time to do something about it. The corruption covers his arms to the elbows and his skin feels no pain as he struggles against the bindings on his wrists. He watches Vladimir slick himself up (visibly aroused, the sadist), but to make it easier on himself, not Ezreal.

Vladimir pushes his entire length in with one thrust. He expects Ezreal to yelp again, or scream or cry or make some kind of delicious pained sound, but all Vladimir hears is the sound of the explorer drawing in one long, slow breath, and holding it. His hands are clenched into fists behind his back. Vladimir frowns, pulls most of the way out, and thrusts in harder this time. Ezreal's body tenses but he makes not a sound.

He refuses to allow Vladimir to use him to torment Varus.

The hand that was around Ezreal's neck drifts to his shoulder, beneath his clothing, and Vladimir digs the tips of his finger-claws into the sensitive area just below Ezreal's collar bone.

"Agh!" Ezreal finally cries out as Vladimir feels the boy's skin break and his life essence pours out over his fingertips. Vladimir removes his hand and raises it to his lips, tasting Ezreal's blood, and his arousal grows painful as he finds it to his liking. His other hand is steadied on Ezreal's hip as he begins thrusting slowly but rhythmically, but to his disappointment, the explorer is silent once more. Vladimir licks the rest of Ezreal's blood off his hand, then reaches down to push up the back of his shirt. Ezreal's hands flex vainly behind his back, trying to find the hem of his shirt and attempt to hold it down, but Vladimir has already exposed Ezreal's back. He shivers as the cold air touches his skin.

Vladimir places the tips of his claws one-by-one between Ezreal's shoulder blades and slowly rakes them across the ivory skin.

Ezreal gasps. "Stop!" he says through gritted teeth. Vladimir grins as crimson droplets spring to the surface along the five vertical lines he has created. Ezreal's body tenses again, and this time Vladimir can feel a tightening around his cock as well.

"I can't stop now," Vladimir says gleefully. "You've finally started to open up to me!"

He wills more blood to the surface and Ezreal hisses in agony. His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists again. Vladimir delights in the knowledge that he is deepening Ezreal's wounds and even the most skilled healer can't prevent them from scarring. Ezreal will be left with a permanent reminder that every action has consequences, that being unprepared to confront a hemomancer is ultimately foolish.

Suddenly, Ezreal makes a new sound as Vladimir strikes a spot within him.

"Does that feel good?" asks Vladimir.

"F-fuck you!" spits Ezreal in response. Vladimir grips Ezreal's wrists, over the ropes, and presses them into his lower back, holding him down against the chair. Ezreal winces as the ropes create more abrasions on his skin. Vladimir notices that the explorer has begun to tremble. This observation nearly drives him over the edge, but he wills himself not to come yet. He pounds relentlessly into Ezreal, who can no longer seem to keep himself from making sound, alternating between groans of pain and breathy whines of pleasure, which he quickly (shamefully) stifles.

Vladimir briefly debates whether it would be of greater torment to Ezreal to bring him to orgasm, or leave him hanging, before deciding to reach around and wrap his hand around Ezreal's cock.

"Don't touch me!" Ezreal gasps, and Vladimir grins. He gives a few lazy strokes and Ezreal chokes back a moan as liquid hits the floor under the chair and he and Vladimir both know what it is. He dips his head, can feel his face growing red from humiliation, but sharp claws scrape against his scalp as Vladimir's fingers curl into his hair and tilt his head back. The tortured expression on Ezreal's face is all Vladimir needs to reach his own climax, and he finishes off inside. He stands, tucking his softening cock back into his silver-trimmed pants.

Vladimir hears a sudden noise from the side that sounds suspiciously like strong rope snapping. He turns to find the tip of a glowing red arrow inches from his nose.

"Speak a word and it will be your last."

Vladimir grins. This is certainly a surprise.


End file.
